


The Devil's in the Details

by legendarytobes



Series: the devil and trixie espinoza [5]
Category: Lucifer (Comic), Lucifer (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Body Horror, Gen, Protective Lucifer, Step-Devil, Step-Satan, Trixie knows, devil bod, friendship fic, full devil, grown up trixie, post- 3.24 a devil of my word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 23:10:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20897672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendarytobes/pseuds/legendarytobes
Summary: Trixie starts trying to figure out what her miracle ability might be and drags Lucifer into helping her test her hunches out. Meanwhile, Michael comes to New Orleans to explain just why he and God kept making miracle humans.





	The Devil's in the Details

**Author's Note:**

> \---A shout-out to deliriumbubbles who sent me a link to hug facts, which was amusing. 
> 
> \---Second, I know that in comics canon, Lucifer and Michael aren't identical, but it's such a fun part of fanon that I'm going with the identical route anyway.
> 
> \---Finally, obviously as part five in "The Devil and Trixie Espinoza" series, the other parts should be read first to make sense of this one.

**The Devil’s in the Details **

“And that’s a full house,” Trixie replied, grinning at the demons sitting around the poker table, although, for right now, they looked perfectly human. **_Tenebrae_** wouldn’t open for guests for a few hours, and, until then, Trixie could keep her run of luck and skill up. If she continued winning, she’d be able to buy those shoes she’d been desperate for that her work-study money so wasn’t covering. “I thought demons would be better at poker.”

Off her right shoulder, Taka half growled-half pouted as she passed the stack of chips to her. Even human, she was tall, close to six feet and as lithe as her demon form. Her hair was black and kept in a short bob, and it complemented well her bright eyes and dark skin. She and Maze looked like sisters no matter their forms. They seemed to wear the same sour look of disappointment as well.

Ez, whose human form looked like he might be right at home in Japan, especially with his straight, dark hair, just threw his cards down on the table. “You’re cheating, somehow.”

Maze shoved her losses toward Trixie too with one hand but spun her favorite blade in the other. It would be intimidating if Trixie couldn’t count on Maze always protecting her to the death. But, sure, if she were anyone else playing poker against the demon…that would have broken her concentration.

Her oldest friend just shook her head. “I don’t know why I play with you. I mean, I freaking taught you how, and you lap me in skill. _Now_ you’re cleaning me out.”

Trixie was still beaming as she collected her winnings. “First, you all bar tend at the most popular club in the Quarter.”

“We make quite the show,” Ez offered, leaning back in his chair. “I’m done for this round. I would like to keep what I haven’t lost, you card shark freak.”

Trixie shrugged. “Sour grapes, dude. Anyway, you all bar tend nightly in pleather for drunk and happy tourists. You’ll make this back in tips before the night’s over.”

Taka was still grumbling to herself. “Deal me in because I’m also a masochist. But you say that like we want to lose money just because we can replace it. Besides, if you stopped cleaning me out, I’d have even more to buy beads with.”

Trixie frowned but started shuffling the cards again. “Huh, beads? I think I missed something here.”  


Maze rolled her eyes. “Taka makes bracelets and sells them weekdays in Jackson Square.”

Trixie’s eyes widened as she dealt Maze and Taka in. “You make jewelry? Do all demons have secret hobbies I don’t know about?”

Taka pouted again. “You don’t seem impressed. I’ll have you know that in Hell no one is better with bamboo shoots and their creative uses than I am. Did you know that the human urethra---”

“No, I’m good,” Trixie replied, finishing setting out the cards. “I don’t want torture details. I don’t think.”

“They’re good ones! You’re the pre-med. I’m just saying you wouldn’t think you could get stuff that thick in diameter up there, but the key’s in the technique,” Taka finished picking up her cards and eying them thoughtfully. “I’m not just violence, you know.”

“Well, okay, that wouldn’t necessarily be a fair assumption for you guys,” Trixie admitted. “You have time to fill when the bar’s not in session and big holes with no more torturing on your schedule. I guess I assumed you all just bounty hunted or something like Maze.”

Maze snorted and fanned her cards out in front of her. “I bounty hunt, and my only hobby is maintaining my knives.”  


Ez shrugged and sipped his beer. “I dunno, Sis. What do you call going to Los Angeles monthly to hang out with angels? That’s not exactly a scary hobby.”  


Maze bit her lower lip and concentrated on her cards. “First, it’s _one _angel. Amenadiel can be such a rigid bastard, but Charlie’s half-my best friend, Linda, and he’s already super smart. That’s a good thing because he wasn’t going to get anything insightful from his dad. Second, I hunt three to four weeks a month. I don’t need to justify ‘Charlie weeks’ to anyone, especially someone who plays the oboe or whatever.”

“It’s a saxophone, and how can I not get into all the jazz music around here?” Ez objected. Beside him, Taka was licking her lips periodically as she continued to evaluate her cards. “A hobby’s a hobby!”

Trixie set out her bet and waited to see if Maze and Taka would meet and up the ante. Maze started off with a ballsy upping of twenty bucks, clearly trying to strong arm with perceptions of a good hand. “So, we have three of Hell’s most fearsome demons. One is probably the best aunt in L.A.---”

“Look, the kid still gets weapons from me. You know I’m no slouch there, Trix,” Maze objected.

Trixie hummed to herself as she set out her next set of chips. “See your twenty, guys and raise you ten.”

Maze and Taka both followed suit but merely matched her bet this round, even if they were still in. Trixie set out her next set of chips after that and grinned when Taka folded, mumbling about wanting to save something for herself this week.

Trixie eyed all three of them. “I mean, not that it’s a bad thing. I think it’s kind of sweet. It shows growth, you know? Hell’s greatest torturer is a devoted to her eight-year-old godson and one very awesome miracle, so thanks there.”

“Might rethink that if you keep insisting I’ve gone soft,” Maze replied, glaring at her.

“And then Ez is in touch with his inner Lisa Simpson, and, okay, I haven’t seen Taka’s work, but it must be nice if tourists like them enough to keep her in business. I mean, jeez, even the former King of Hell has hobbies.” She didn’t mention the more obvious thing that Lucifer _had_ also had hobbies Before, which vacillated between orgy host, amateur sleuth, and accomplished pianist (also shitty Monopoly player but that was neither here nor there). “If he can become an encyclopedia of bad procedural TV show knowledge, you all can do less violent things too.”

Maze rolled her eyes and set the last of her chips down. “I call.”

“And I’ve got an ace high straight.”

“A pair of tens and a pair of eights, damn it.”

Trixie grinned and swept the pile into her arms. Oh, yes, those new sneakers she’d been eying were all hers. “And thank you for donating this week to the Trixie Espinoza fun fund. I can get you a nice little thank you letter too.”

Ez frowned. “Are you cheating?”

Taka narrowed her eyes at Trixie. “Maybe she’s got whatever miracle power she’s supposed to have starting. Are you psychic now?”

Maze rolled her eyes. “No, the kid’s been playing since she was seven, and she’s a natural.”

“Actually,” Trixie chirped, feeling a little sorry for her friends. “I have two detective parents, and I know tells when I see them. Ez taps his foot if he’s got a great hand, while Taka licks her lips when she knows she’s screwed. Maze? You tend to bite your lower lip when you can’t decide what your next move is, which means that you usually have a decent hand but only relative to what I might have. It’s all deduction.”  


Maze whistled. “Wow, a mini-Decker.”

“Ugh, so not,” Trixie replied automatically. She loved her mom, but she was her own person. “I just notice things because I was trained to do that, you know? Maybe work on the tells for next time so it’ll be a challenge.” She shoved the wad of cash from the center of table---all of it corresponding to the chips she’d cleared and counted---into her backpack. “But, seriously, you guys are kind of cute with all your hobbies. It’s nice.”

“I know how to snap a human’s spine in under ten seconds,” Taka replied. “I’m not ‘nice.’”

“Besides, Trix, before you get _any_ of us, Lucifer included, confused with Care Bears or whatever, you do know we still hunt,” Maze added.

“Yeah, you bounty hunt, duh. You’ve done that since forever,” Trixie said.

“No, I meant here in New Orleans,” Maze corrected. “Lucifer has rules---if it’s humans, only if we catch ‘em in the act and like big crimes there, and nothing to maim permanently or kill. He doesn’t want anything bouncing back on him in the dead human arena even possibly.”

“Whoa.” Trixie sipped her soda. “So, like---”

“Mostly murderers, thieves, and people who get too handsy with anyone leaving a bar, yeah,” Taka added.

“But you said, ‘if it’s humans.’”

Maze shrugged. “That’s what Taka and I prefer to hunt. Honestly, the bigger the douchey, rapey threat, the more rewarding to beat him black and blue and show him the hell preview.”

Taka nodded and licked her lips again. “Definitely.”

“But Ez and the guys prefer harder prey. So, we’ve always had clearance for any leeches that get too close to our block,” Maze said.

Ez looked down at his nails, as if this were no big deal. “You know that thing about ‘the most dangerous game?’ Well, it’s a fuckton more rewarding to hunt a real apex predator than a human. Besides, our lord doesn’t care if they die or not. A complete bonus.”  


Trixie sagged back in her chair and processed this new information. “So, you’re a mix of vigilantes and vampire slayers in your spare time because you can take the demon out of hell but…”

“We all have to get our violence on,” Maze agreed.

“But that’s no reason _not_ to have a creative outlet,” Taka corrected. “You can only kill or beat down so many things in a week.”

“Says you,” Maze huffed.

Ez winked. “Our _little_ Sis has spent eons proving herself since she’s the runt. Still, you can take time out to not hunt or practice, Mazikeen. It won’t kill you.”

“Knives are a great hobby. I can hurl them through a bull’s eye like no one’s freaking business.”

“Ooh, you could join a carnival someday!” Trixie added, not sure if that was helpful or not.

“Does it bother you about the hunting?” Taka asked.

“No,” she replied, even if a part of her that would always be in agreement with her parents and what they’d taught her disapproved of vigilantism. “I just didn’t know how you all kept busy outside of the show and the bar, I guess. Honestly, the less vampires out there, the better. Those bloodsuckers are monsters, nothing more.”

Maze punched her shoulder playfully. “Don’t worry, not-so-little-human. No one here will let anything try and bite you again. It will be my pleasure to tear the next vampire that even tries a new asshole…among other things.”

“Cool, I just…maybe I’m feeling keyed up anyway,” Trixie said.

Taka considered her and shuffled her stack of five cards between her fingers. “The miracle thing, like I said. Still no clue what you do?”

“Ugh, suck as it did, Luci only talked with John Constantine a few days ago. So far, I just do the same bunch of crappy things I did before---apparently taste amazing to the undead and nix Luci’s invulnerability. I mean, he says he wouldn’t be able to get any desires out of me if he tried, but he hasn’t actually attempted that yet.”

Maze started to say something but seemed to think better of it. Instead, her attention turned back to polishing her blade against her shirt. “You’ll figure it out. You’re awesome, Trix, so whatever it is you’re supposed to do? It’s going to be awesome.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she replied. “I’m not even sure how to start figuring out what I’m supposed to do. I mean, I’m not exactly a muse or that talented at things. I have a few hobbies, but I had no idea that was supposed to be my literal higher calling.”

Ez rocked back in his chair a bit. It creaked under his weight, and Trixie worried one of the legs might snap. Even humanish, the Lilim guys were really built like pro-wrestlers. It was insane. “Then, you should probably be the one getting on with your hobbies instead of judging ours.”

“I’m not! I just didn’t expect jewelry making and blues sax to go along with vampire hunting and saving girls in alleys,” Trixie said.

Maze set her blade on the table. “The real joy is putting the fear of Hell in those low lives, but, yeah, I guess some of us can mix hunting with tamer passions.”

“Well, maybe Michael will know more about miracles, especially if _he’s_ the one usually making us to, uh, wander around earth and apparently be easy prey to be eliminated by the supernatural, and I’m not actually feeling any better,” Trixie said.

She sighed and set her head, forehead flat, on the table and tried to ignore the rumbling of her stomach. Bile had been churning in it since she’d saved Lucifer from Constantine. For one thing, as cool as it would be to _do_ something and not just have downsides to being a miracle, she was nervous about other creatures and not just Esmée’s coven coming after her. More than that, though, she was scared about even being allowed to stay in New Orleans. Stupid Constantine had Lucifer acting squirrely, had clearly planted ideas in his head that it was better to send her away. Maybe it was technically safer, but she had school here and her sorority. It would suck to start all over in Austin. Besides, if she left, it would crush Lucifer, whether he wanted to admit it or not. So, if Michael had bad news…had even more to reveal that would make Lucifer balk, she might get shipped back to Texas faster than she could blink.

So not an option she wanted.

“Michael?” Maze asked. “I don’t get that. Amenadiel blessed Mama Decker. Why Michael?”

“Cause he blessed all the apparently dozens or however many of others throughout history. I mean, a few a century, but they were there. I have no idea why God cares or wanted a bunch of miracles one-at-a-time, but clearly Michael’s made them,” she admitted. “Lucifer tried at first to just pray to get Michael to come, but he finally got Rae Rae to convince Michael to agree to stop by the bar tomorrow.”

“Michael is coming here?” Maze snapped, she picked up her knife and gripped it so tightly that Trixie worried she’d hurt herself. “You know what he did to Lucifer?”

“Yeah, the actual kicking him out of heaven angel, right? Lucifer said it was okay enough to meet, though. Not that he had a great read on that last time with John Constantine, but I assumed angels were nicer.”

Taka and Ez eyed each other and stood in sync.

“Now that I’ve had my ass thoroughly beat, I’m heading back to the house with the other Lilim,” Ez said. “Maybe I can at least recover some dignity before shift.”

Taka chuckled. “It would imply, Big Brother, that you ever had any, but I just realized I have some inventory to do up in my room so I’m just going to…”

They were both gone in a blink, and Trixie hated dealing with beings that on foot or by wing were so fast she barely saw them move. It was a huge disadvantage.

She frowned back at Maze. “What? Did I say something?”

“Yeah, but, hey, let me get you back to the sorority house. You can stay the night and I’ll take the floor, or you can come back here after you grab stuff. There’s a lot about Michael you don’t know so maybe a primer would help you get how messed up this whole visit is.”

“I get it, really I do. Michael is the whole ‘Sword of God’ so he was the one to literally stab and then kick Lucifer into freefall. Of course, he’s Lucifer’s least favorite brother. I mean, duh.”

Maze stood up and gathered up her jacket. “No, kid, that’s not it at all.”

**

Since Trixie opted to just grab some stuff, feed Beelzebub, and head back to **_Tenebrae_**, she didn’t need to disguise Maze. If her friend-slash-bodyguard had been spending the night, Trixie would have spelled her invisible (thanks Rae Rae for the incantation) to keep her sisters from being curious. Maybe she should have just done it on principle. Apparently, most of Omega Chi wasn’t ready for Maze to stomp up the stairs in her combat boots, low slung leather pants, and her shirt that was almost more a bandana than actual covering.

It certainly left a sour look on Mrs. Murchison’s face when they met her at the top of the stairs.

“Miss Espinoza, you’ve been missing chapter meetings lately. I’ve noticed you’ve hardly slept here in over a week.” She eyed Maze and shook her head. “Is this your ‘townie?’”

“I’m a lot of things---”

Trixie put a hand on Maze’s shoulder. Her friend had the ultimate hair trigger temper, and as nice as it would be to have a demon wipe that condescending look off of her house mother’s face, Trixie knew it would just make her life at Omega Chi more thorny and complicated.

“Actually, this is my friend, Mazikeen. She tends bar in the Quarter. My, uh, townie friend owns that place though so close enough almost.”

“And he’s not sending you ridiculous gifts that clog up my living room anymore. At least that’s something,” Mrs. Murchison said. Then she clicked her tongue. “Still, wherever there’s trouble, I seem to find you in the middle of it. You and Cheryl go out on the town, and she comes home needing urgent care because some violent drug-addled criminal bit her. Then, you both just go to get frozen yogurt, and the next thing I know, Cheryl’s leaving Tulane and the sisterhood completely.”

Maze couldn’t stop the satisfied smirk from spreading across her face. Trixie winced. Now, was so not the time to gloat that Cheryl had run away (and probably deeper into the vamps’ nest for protection).

“Really? Can’t say I’m shocked. She didn’t seem to make the best decisions,” the demon said.

Mrs. Murchison eyed Trixie. Now, the look had nothing on Lucifer’s hellfire eyes, but it still sucked. Her house mother wanted her gone, and Trixie could feel the thin edge of ice she was currently skating on splintering further, at least as far as her life at Omega Chi was concerned. “That seems to be going around, Mackenzie,” the older woman said, casting a glare toward Maze.

“Mazikeen. Mazikeen Smith,” Maze bit back. “And as far as I’m concerned, losing Cheryl is---”

Trixie clamped her hand over Maze’s mouth. “A real shame. Okay, great talk, Mrs. Murchison. See you later!” She yanked Maze up the next flight of stairs and quickly shuffled with her into her bedroom.

Okay, so Maze clearly was feeling charitable and _let_ Trixie lead her. Still, at least a shouting match was avoided so far. Ooh, seriously, if she had anything cool in her miracle arsenal, it just had to be strength or speed, right? She loathed trying to keep up with demons and the Devil. It was so not close as a competition, it wasn’t funny. It was kind of like ant vs. humans, but even more outclassed.

_God, if you would just give me a good thing, that would be super awesome_…

Maze leaned against the closet door and eyed her room. “At least you have a single.”

“Yeah, thank uh…whoever…for small favors,” she corrected herself. Trixie headed to the cage and pulled out her little sugar glider, Beelz. He chittered happily to see her and licked her fingertips. Setting him on her mattress, she reached into her mini-fridge and pulled out the chopped carrots and celery that made up his dinner for tonight. And, okay, she might have added a bit of bonus avocado this time around because she’d been absent a lot lately, and she could tell Beelz was confused. Slipping over to her pet, she handed him the bowl and smiled as he started digging into it. “Who’s a good little Beelzebub? Yes, you are.”

Maze shook her head. “You can imply Charlie’s making me a nanny, all you want, Trix, but we know exactly who’s gone the softest amongst us.”

“I admit, most of Lucifer’s gifts were, uh, a lot.”  


“Clearly. Only one that showed any damn common sense was the silver blade. Gifts mean protection. Protection means knives. They are _always_ the perfect gift.”

Trixie laughed and picked up a spare slice of avocado from her fridge for herself. “I have ten knives or more from my various birthdays that confirm that. At least, I wasn’t the only one with a messed-up childhood. You and Lucifer’s both must have sucked.”

“I was the runt, so I learned to adapt. But, yeah, my mom Lilith was a real bitch.” Maze sighed, crossed her arms over her chest, and eyed the collection of drawings Trixie had pinned on her corkboard. “Angels aren’t…yeah God and the Goddess fucked like bunnies. I swear Lucifer must have hundreds of siblings. It’s a big host. But they were never kids.”

“Huh?” Trixie blinked back at her friend. “I don’t get it.”

“The angels just _were_. Came out fully formed and ready to be assigned jobs.”

“So, they were never young?”

“Technically, sure, new to the universe or whatever. Short muppets like you or Charlie and actually allowed some time not to be at God’s beck-and-call, oh Hell no.”

“That’s sad, but it explains the lack of social skills.”

“Well, Hell’s not exactly big on decorum either, Trix.”

“I know…I just…let me grab some things. I don’t want to be gone too long.”

“He managed a decade without you, kid. He can manage without you every minute.”

She scowled even as she let Beelz eat. Stomping to her dresser, she pulled out the first clean pj’s and other things she could find and shoved them in her backpack. “It’s not that. I just…I want to be useful. He asked me to go home. I mean, Maze, why would I transfer?”

“If you were smart, Trix, you might actually listen.”

“But you’re supposed to take my side.”

Maze shook her head. “I am. It’s not safe here, and we got lucky tracking you twice.”  


“Not lucky. You’re the best tracker probably in the world.”

“You still got bit once and almost bit _the second time_. He’s not wrong. It’d be saner for you to go home and forget the miracle stuff. However, Lucifer doesn’t know you as well as I do or how stubborn you are, like at all. I know we can’t tell you to just leave and go off into the sunset or whatever. But I’m on the fence. No one I want in town more than you, sure, and I like…it’s been real nice, kid. It feels like family again here. Better even. But if you died…everything after that would feel like we’d returned to Hell without even having to leave the Quarter.”

She finished shoving her things in her bag and set it on her mattress. Trixie had intended to put Beelz up right away, but that churning was ramping up full force in her stomach again, and she pulled her sugar glider into her arms instead. Stroking his twitching ears, she looked back at Maze, who, in turn, was studying her doodles studiously.

“But I’ll get better. I’ll be smarter or more trained. If my own powers are useful, eventually, then totally helpful, right?”

Maze shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t want you gone, and, of course, Lucifer would rather cut his own arm off than send you away if he weren’t really scared. Personally, I think the Hellblazer is a low life, and he wants everyone to be as fucking miserable as he is. John Constantine put that tiny guilt seed or whatever in Lucifer’s ear, and that’s what’s eating at him.”

“Do you think that Michael will have better things to say?”

  
“He’s more of an ass than Constantine from what I hear. Honestly, outside of Amenadiel since he was always kicking us back off earth and cutting vacations short, Lucifer never talked much about his family. I mean, yeah ‘God this’ and ‘God did that’ ranting, and we were watching after the Goddess of All Creation. Also, Azrael dropped off souls at the gate, but otherwise? The rest? He mostly tries to pretend they never existed, outside of very general grumbling. That said, yeah, Michael he talked about him some…it’s probably been since before America was a country that Lucifer has been on a tear about his twin, but, Trix, it’s a big fucking deal.”  


“Because Michael kicked him out?”

“No, more because of the twin-thing.”  


She nodded and drew Beelz a little closer to her chest. “Yeah, he mentioned that and, dude, how did no one tell me earlier that like the world…that Lucifer _made_ it.”

“He followed a design, mostly, and Michael made the raw material. Lucifer _willed_ the basic parts to form what was on their Dad’s list.” Maze chuckled a little. “Although, he’s Lucifer so he went off script. A lot.”

“No, really?”

“Yeah, so the fact fruit ferments eventually into alcohol? Definitely, a Lucifer idea.”

“Shit.”

“That’s the tip of that iceberg. I’m sure you can guess it takes a while even for archangels to make a universe or even just craft earth. They knew each other well, but they never agreed on things back in the Silver City. Michael’s always loyal, and I don’t know if it was because Lucifer just stirs shit to stir shit---and he so does---or if part of it was also a reaction to stand out from Michael, but Lucifer was always the one acting out.”

“Because he questions stuff. He’s the most stubborn dumbass I’ve ever met.”

“Definitely,” Maze agreed. “But it all got complicated.”

Trix frowned as she finally put Beelz away and locked his cage. “Wait, what do you mean ‘stand out?’”

“Lucifer and Michael are _identical_ twins, kid. So, yeah, meeting with Michael this time for the first time since he got banished is going to suck so hard.”

“I could be there. I…we both could, right?”

Maze arched her scarred, uneven eyebrow at Trixie. “No, we really couldn’t. Trust me, Lucifer wouldn’t want that. It’s gonna take everything he has just to get through it in one piece, you know?”

“Well, if he changes his mind…”

“You and Taka and I will have a poker rematch at our place, okay?”

“But if he did want me---”

“Trix, he won’t, not for this,” Maze said, tiredly. “And it’s not like Constantine. Angels have to keep vows. It’s not as big a rule as the ‘no killing humans’ one, but if they break a promise, then it’s pretty bad still. Michael promised to peaceably meet with Lucifer. He’ll keep his word, so it’ll be fine. Cover all those ‘what the fuck is a miracle’ bases, and then we can figure the rest out on our own.”

She sighed and picked up her backpack. It felt heavier than she would have thought slung over her shoulders. “Sorry I’m making things hard.”  


“God made things complicated by deciding to do so much bullshit to manipulate not just Lucifer but all of the angels. He makes the crappy rules, has no mercy, and fucks off to some other universe when he feels like it. It’s _His_ fault, kid, not yours. You didn’t ask to be a miracle any more than Decker would have, if she knew about herself. It just kind of is.”

“Yeah but---”

Maze offered her a feral smile. “Hey, though, I like the drawings. They’re pretty good. I mean, I still like the alien drawings to hide my knife marks, but these are like…I dunno, Ez is into all that anime crap, and these kind of have the feel to them. The eyes are so huge, but it works.” She stepped closer and traced a fingertip over a few doodles of her sorority sisters, and then one she’d done at Christmas of her parents by the fire before settling on the one Maze seemed to like best. “This one of me is badass.”

Trixie nodded. “I didn’t see it, but I figured I could take some inspiration on what probably happened in the cemetery.”

“Oh, I totally slashed through that leeches throat that fast. Not quite enough blood splatter in your picture, though, so not perfect.” She craned her neck to the edge of the cork board and sighed. “Oh, Trix, damn.”

“I…sorry, half my sisters think I’m nuts cause I have all the cute pics and the ones I drew cause of sorority functions and a couple chibi looking things for this impromptu-manga I’m stalled on but like…I dunno…it was just in my head, and I had to get it on paper.”

Maze traced the contours of the broad wings on the doodle. “It’s good, though, looks like him. You’ve come a long way from alien doodles. Let’s just get home, okay? I could use the rest too before shift, and I’m supposed to chase a bounty over in Birmingham over the end of the week.”

“Do you want yours?” Trixie offered. “I can always draw like tons more of kickass Mazikeen. Hell, I could make you a whole comic.”  


She grinned and slipped the _Mazikeen Smith, Vampire Slayer_ picture from the board. “You probably should, not-so-little-human, try and make bank before med school. I hear that costs like a shit ton.”

“Thanks, Maze, keep reminding me.”

**

“Okay,” Beatrice said, setting down a large Tupperware container on his coffee table and shoving her backpack on the floor. “I know that the big angels meeting starts at midnight, and apparently, you don’t want anyone else around.”

Lucifer eyed her carefully before picking up the container. “You have that right, urchin. Also, you mislabeled the encounter. _Michael_ would be the ‘angel,’ singular. And, while he is a bastard, he’s a Celestial of his word. Azrael assured me he only wishes to talk and, frankly, as quickly as possible so he can get on with his own tasks. You’re explicitly _not_ invited, but don’t take it personally. Neither are the Lilim, even Mazikeen.”

“So, I totally get that. It’s personal and that’s intense, gotcha,” Beatrice conceded.

“You have quite the way with words, spawn.” He fumbled a bit trying to open the container and, once her realized that his claws and the sleek plastic were not going to be a match for each other…assuming Beatrice wanted any of it back and not in pieces, he handed it back to her. “Would you be so kind?”

She nodded, and he pretended not to notice the way her eyes grew shiny. He should have just shredded the fucking thing anyway. “Yeah, sure, but it’s only nine, and I can scurry down to Maze and Taka’s floor in like thirty seconds. So, unless you like sitting alone not even watching TV while you wait, then I figured you could use me. I’m great at passing the time.” She grinned back at him as she popped the lid. “There’s so a reason I’m _this_ close to being next year’s social chair.”

“I’m sure your sisters are going to be ever so thrilled,” he drawled. Then, Lucifer leaned in closer so he could spy what she’d brought him. “You can bake?”

“I’m not seven anymore,” she offered and rolled her eyes. “Also, snickerdoodles? Not that hard to do.”

“You know,” he said, pulling out and chomping into one. “We actually don’t have food in Hell.”

“What’s your point?”

“Technically, I don’t require any. Neither do Celestials. Angels tend to run off their own divinity, like a self-fulfilling cycle. In Hell, well, most food is a pleasure. In the loops there are some horrible things---maggots appearing in a favorite meal, rotten meat, and my preference is the illusion of unlimited chocolate and peanut butter treats but no milk or water anywhere. Souls especially hate that one.”

“Huh,” she said, seeming to mull that over as she got her own cookie and set the box aside. “That sucks.”

“It’s a bit ironic. Those are the most fun types. I enjoy a bit of a surprise with my punishment. Mazikeen, well, she enjoys being direct.”

“But there’s no food in Hell?”

“None that you’d actually wish to consume, no. So, honestly, getting to sample it on earth is a novelty, even with such a prolonged vacation.” He shrugged and finished the last of the baked good. It actually was quite good, moist and soft. “I suppose it’s one of the few seven deadly sins I allow myself currently.”

Beatrice laughed and took a small collection of cards---albeit even from his angle Lucifer could tell they were too small to be playing cards---from her backpack. “I always figured the seven deadly sins were like naming the seven dwarves. I can never remember all of them. I mean, that _Se7en_ movie almost helps.”

“And yet vintage Brad Pitt is most distracting, agreed,” he replied, winking at her.

“Yeah, that too, but gluttony seems fun enough.” She frowned and stopped herself from reaching for a second treat. “Unless, you eventually have spring formal coming around and just don’t want to deal with the dress shopping. So, glad to bring you stuff that you can’t always get.”

He smirked at her and settled himself more easily on the sofa. Clearly, whatever she wanted would include him facing her quite a bit. Getting his wings out of the way for clear access would be helpful. “It’s cute you assume I couldn’t procure things if I so chose.”

“This is an Abuela Minnie original recipe. You can’t just buy that.”

“Name your price, urchin.”

“Nope, some things are family only,” she replied. “Now, as far as the cards go, I was thinking you could help me since I can’t do this myself, not really. It’s an honor system thing?”

“Color me intrigued. I am guessing this is not poker? Those are also too small to be Tarot Cards, which are hokum.”

“You’re the Devil.”

“Yes, but I never said that legitimate psychics---few and far between as they are---actually channel their abilities through Tarot. They don’t. However, charlatans feel more than free to pretend to. Also, since I made the stars, I can definitively assure you that astrology, while quite amusing, is bullshit as well.”

“Hanging out with you is ruining my imagination, I swear,” she replied. “No ghosts, no werewolves, now you’re saying Tarot cards suck. Seriously, tell me about Santa next.”

“He’s real.”

Her jaw dropped, and he had to reach out quickly to keep Beatrice from slipping off the sofa. “No way.”

“Yes, how else did you think billions of Christian children received presents in one night?”

“Um, their parents?”

Lucifer smirked. “That’s what Father Christmas wants you to think. But the Easter Bunny? Not real, though a large mythical rabbit would be rather intimidating. Definitely scarier than I. So, child, what do you have for me before my pillock of a brother shows?”

“Have you heard of Zener cards?”

He frowned as she set five cards down in front of him on the sofa cushions. They were about half the size of legitimate playing cards and contained five, distinct and fairly simple geometric configurations: a yellow circle, a red plus sign, blue wavy lines layered together, a black square, and a green star bringing up the rear. “Blackjack would be more enjoyable. It had never been my bent, but Miss Lopez taught me quite a bit. While I cannot count cards, I do agree I’ve found it rather addictive. Have you a real deck? I know that Takazeen would have at least one below.”

She rolled her eyes, and he tried to ignore how damn familiar the expression was. “Um, no, they’re for a purpose.”

“Is this some _Sesame Street_ thing?”

“No, dude, still _not_ seven anymore.”

“Well, all humans are rather young.”

“Anyway,” she continued. “Zener cards are used to test psychic ability. I guess technically more like clairvoyance and remote viewing than future sight, but I mean, I have to try and figure out what I can do somehow.”

He arched an eyebrow ridge up at her. “You are aware that old John-O said whatever you could do or, more accurately, _will_, would come from your interests. Playing with these things is clearly no one’s random passion or pastime.”

“Yeah, and Constantine said a lot of things including trying to get you to kick me back to Texas. I’m so taking what that guy said with a big, freaking boulder of salt.”

Lucifer had the decency to look down at the sofa cushions and look away from her bright gaze. “Beatrice, you know that neither Maze nor I…”

“Yeah, yeah. I know that, and that’s what Maze said yesterday too. Still doesn’t mean Constantine didn’t spread shit to you, and now you have doubts. So, if he says tons of crap about my miracle-ness, then I’m going to figure the full and real truth out for myself. I mean, not like the dude was even sober when we met him.”

“His default state, at best, is seriously hungover. Honestly, it might be the one thing I respect about him. Bastard knows how to cut loose or, at least, how to chase his dragons.” Lucifer shook his head and set his palm flat before her. “Alright, urchin, we’ll try this, but I’m rather doubtful.”

“I bet I can do it.”

He smirked. “I bet you don’t even rank 20%.”

“I can do at chance!”

“Can you?”

It took a minute or so after she’d placed the cards in his hand for him to get a good grip on them and then shuffle enough that he felt they were random again. Then, he set the five cards face down in his lap. Picking up the first one, he was careful to make sure there was no way she could see it.

_Blue wavy lines_.

“Alright, Beatrice, please impress me with your supernatural powers.”

“Black square!”

“Alas not. But would it make you more accurate if we placed bets?”  


She glared at him before spinning around and presenting her back to him. “I’m like going to make this double-blind, no chance I can see things.”

“You clearly can’t now,” he replied drolly. “But if you insist…” He picked up the second card, which _was_ the black square this time.

Beatrice hummed to herself and tapped her foot against the sofa’s edge. “Green star.”

“Wrong, _now_ it’s the black square.”

“Okay, so this is a work in progress.”

“You’re not psychic.”

“One more, Luci, let’s at least try for three.”

He huffed but humored her. It was sort of his jam these days. _Red cross._ “Alright, urchin, hit me.”

“Yellow circle?”

“No, not even close---the cross shape this time.” He set the cards down and held his hands up placatingly as she turned to face him.

Lucifer promised to not compare her directly to her parents to Beatrice’s face, but she still reminded him so strongly of both---especially Chloe---at the most random of times. The eyerolls, of course, were her mother’s as was her stubborn compassion, even when it was to her own detriment. However, the tendency to be petty or easily frustrated was pure Detective Douche. He could see the annoyance in the tight set of her jaw when she stared up at him again.

“Offspring,” he continued. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“It’s just really disappointing. This miracle thing? Totally overrated. I can’t even _do_ anything yet.”

Personally, Lucifer hoped she never figured it out. Clearly, it was possible to spend one’s whole life in the dark about their divinely inspired nature. See _Exhibit A_, the Detective. If it kept Beatrice alive and unhunted---well, outside of the community here who had fluked into the knowledge of what she was---then Lucifer was all for that. Of course, she would want to ferret it out, would want to tease out a puzzle. She’d always been the most hardheaded child. So, because he was incredibly weak willed when it came to Decker women, he relented in her newfound quest to figure out her latent ability.

At least they could check clairvoyance off the list.

“Would you have wanted to be a remote viewer, anyway?”

“Not really. I mean, if I _am_ like some-kind-of-voyant, I’d so rather just be psychic. It’d be great! I’d pick the winning Powerball numbers, have all the tuition money, _and_ buy my abuelos a sweet house _and_ get a car because I kind of get sick of Ubering if I need to get to the Quarter…not that parking here is a thing really.”

Lucifer brightened at that. “Beatrice, you do know that I’ve been around quite a while.”

“Uh, yeah, no shit.”

“And I’ve been investing and setting aside wealth since at least the Rothschilds and banking came about on the continent.”

“Yeah, I totally figured that.”

“If you’ve a need---”

“We are going to circle this a lot, aren’t we? Like, okay, useful weapon to learn to stab vampires with, great. A cute but totally random sugar glider to cuddle…I can’t exactly give Beelz back; we’ve bonded. That said, nope.”

“But urchin, really---”

“The fantasy, Luci, is that _I_ win the lottery.”

“By squandering a divine blessing if you ever acquire it,” he pointed out.

She glared at him, dark eyes stormy. “Well, if I were psychic and successfully did win the lottery with my gift, then I’d say that’s just your Dad’s sign that he approves of me using psychic powers to make bank.”

“Oh, so _Him_ you’d accept more gifts from?” No, he didn’t sniff at that. He wasn’t a teenage girl who preferred to listen to Adele on repeat, thank you very much for asking.

“No, but if being a miracle is going to fuck up my life, which, hey, it kind of is doing, then I should get something out of it. I just…winning the lotto because I have an ability---”

“Which we have clearly demonstrated is most likely not going to be psychic in nature.”

“Potato, poh-tah-to,” she chirped. “Still, if money is earned because of _me_ earning it, that’s great. I’m not some kind of mooch.”

“It’s no bother.”

“Mom and Dad wouldn’t…”

He sighed and slumped in his seat. “Well, no, of course they bloody wouldn’t approve. I’m quite certain that I’m at the top of their most hated person---term used loosely---list.”

Beatrice pursed her lips but seemed to let his crack go at least. Fair enough because in sarcasm veritas, but he didn’t want to dig at it either. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…you work hard and earn what you get. They have the same policy, honestly, with Grandma Penelope. She used to try and get me cool stuff for my birthdays, especially when I was a teenager. She _did_ get me a car---nothing flashy, used I mean---for my sixteenth birthday and Dad had kittens over it. So, it’s just a general work ethic, dummy. It wouldn’t be about you.”

“Oh, I assure you, urchin, it would most definitely be about me if they ever knew we hung out.”

“We’re _friends_. It’s more than just ‘hanging out,’” she corrected, sitting up straighter as if daring him to argue her point.

He frowned as he handed her the useless Zener cards back. “Does he know?”

“My dad?”

“Yes, about…well…anything?”

“Hey!”

“Sorry, allow me to clarify. Does he know about _me_, truly, or Maze and Amenadiel by extension? The whole ‘it’s all really real’ conundrum that seems to flummox you humans so.”

Beatrice sighed and patted his shoulder. He tried to pretend it didn’t feel condescending, especially coming from a girl who was not even a blink of an eye---age-wise---compared to his eternity of existence. It didn’t quite work. “I am sure he doesn’t. I think it would have made him feel better about Charlotte and heaven and stuff if he had. Plus, uh, if he knew that Satan and demons and stuff were real, we’d probably be living in some foreign country under an alias by now.”

“To be fair,” Lucifer said, trying to keep his voice even. “That wouldn’t stop Maze from finding you and quickly.”

She giggled and took her hand away. “I know that, and you know that. Dad would still try. So, since I don’t live in like Guam, I figure he has no clue.”

“What a blessing that must be for him.”

Beatrice sighed and stood. “I _like_ knowing.”

Lucifer slammed his mouth shut before he could utter something incredibly suicidal and break the fragile détente he and the urchin managed between them. His knee-jerk reaction would have been to say, “_Your mother sure didn’t_,” but instead, he swallowed hard and refocused his thoughts on anything else. “I wouldn’t think that you would, especially with vampire attacks and now the need for a sort of miracle secret service of your own.”

“But you didn’t really do that. I’d be a miracle either way, you know? Anyway,” she said, leaning over and hugging him tightly. That he was used to. What he wasn’t was the duration. It wasn’t awkwardly long, but it was a sight bit longer than the spawn’s usual anaconda-esque squeezes. As she pulled away, he tilted his head at her. “Well, that was a bit unexpected.”

“Oh, yeah, see I read this article about the science of hugs the other day. I think some link from _Buzzfeed_, but anyway, twenty seconds or more is really good for endorphins, and I’m just testing the theory out?” She practically squeaked that last part out.

“You sound very confident there.”

“I am. I…look if stuff with Michael sucks---”

“Oh, it will.”

“Then, I’m just downstairs with Maze. She can come kick his ass, and I can do whatever you need, right?”

He stood and set a hand on both of her shoulders. “Go downstairs, study whatever you must be behind in by now with all your poking about _Tenebrae_\---I’d prefer not to have words with all your professors---and don’t worry so much, spawn. I’m fine.”

She chuckled a little at his not-quite-a-threat about her teachers. “Well, I could use some more review on the protist chapter in bio and---”

“That’s the right idea.” He nodded toward her backpack even as he removed his hands from her shoulders. “Beatrice?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t try and force whatever it is you do. Honestly, I’ve no doubt it’ll come, and you deserve a chance…let things just be normal for a bit, alright?”

“Or as normal as they can be?”

“Point taken,” he said, offering her the best smile he could before she disappeared down the stairs. The Detective might have been in acting, but he was no slouch, himself.

**

Tourists passed below the balcony and some stopped to stare up at him, while a few even took pictures. However, this late in the night in the Quarter meant the bulk were too drunk or too excited looking for the next bar to troll to give “the performer” on the veranda much thought. It hadn’t been a terrible idea he’d come up with, but any scrutiny ended up chafing him more than he had initially expected. Even if it was usually because people expected him to be just part of the show, some eccentric actor in a bloody costume, it still stung.

Lucifer grazed one long claw delicately over the ravaged skin on his right arm. Would that it was something he could just slip out of, just a costume and nothing more.

But when Dad was pissed…He was well and truly _biblical_ in his wrath.

The flutter of wings sounded behind him, and Lucifer closed his eyes and counted to ten, giving his twin time to banish _them_ away. Michael was better about that than Rae Rae, who tended to be lax, to forget somehow that divinity had a tendency to drive humans mad. It probably was because she mostly dealt with the dead ones. But Michael was the _loyal_ one, the blighter who could recite every rule verbatim. He’d have shunted them away as fast as possible to spare the sanity of revelers in the Big Easy.

Finally, once he was certain he wouldn’t have to see _them_, Lucifer turned to his brother. “Hello, Mikey, long time, no see.”

Honestly, Lucifer had more conflicting reactions to seeing his twin than even he would have thought. There was anger there, even if they’d not been close for eons before his Fall, there would always be ire that the final blow dealt to him was from Michael. But there was also longing because once they’d been not only tasked with such an impossible duty and spent interminable years together just _creating_, but because he was Lucifer’s twin and nothing could replace that gaping hole in his heart. Even if Lucifer struggled to pretend it did **not** exist. And, of course, Michael’s appearance twisted like a demon blade in Lucifer’s chest. His memory was eidetic, so he hadn’t forgotten---dear Dad how could he have---what he used to look like, but with no mirrors where he was now, with no pictures of Before….it was easier to let memories grow fuzzy, even if that took some effort too. But Michael, like any member of the host, appeared as he always had.

As they both _should_ have.

Aquiline nose, strong jaw (which, honestly, would have looked better with some stubble but Mikey was too straight-laced for it), long neck and prominent Adam’s apple. The dark brown eyes that _weren’t_ laced with living Hellfire, the unblemished skin with randomly scattered, dark freckles, and black hair. Well, maybe his brother should also think about product. Lucifer had never been a fan of his curls, and they ran a riot over his brother’s head.

However, while he’d expected to feel both bereft and jealous just seeing Michael---because how could he not---Lucifer had not expected to be concerned. His brother slouched a bit and his eyes held just the hint of dark circles under them, which, for an archangel---for half of the demiurge at that---should have been flatly impossible. The glasses (and what was with the host needing them lately between his twin and Rae Rae) on his brother’s nose were slightly askew, and the suit he wore, nice enough but clearly nothing special or designer, held traces of wrinkles over the knees and elbows.

How much was Mikey doing with Dad gone to make him seem this harried?

And, like always, Lucifer felt that ire at his father. How dare his Dad plan so many things, order them into their roles without any chance to question or change or request something better suited to them, and then fuck off to a new universe decades ago to leave them to pick up the pieces. So far, they all pretty much were ass at moving on. Uriel had gone stark raving mad, Rae Rae never came home, Amenadiel fell, at least for a while, and Mikey looked like he was going to pass out where he stood.

And, as with killing Cain, Lucifer could not regret his crimes, only his punishments. He wasn’t wrong to question his Father, though, had he to do over again, he would never have involved his siblings, never would have dragged other Fallen with him. Still, Dad was _not_ all-knowing, and the burden he’d put on the host too much, even for them.

“Sam,” His twin finally said, after clearly taking as much stock of him as he had of Michael. “Azrael said you finally know.”

“She knew about miracles?”

“She’s a young Celestial, and she had her role. It keeps her busy. No, she didn’t know until you told her, but she did explain you had questions for me.”

“Any of the archangels besides you know about the miracle factory you and dear old Dad had going?” Lucifer replied, unable to keep the low menace out of his voice.

Even if it were maybe three miracles a century…over thousands of years, that meant possibly hundreds of miracles had been born, manifested, and horribly murdered because of yet more of Father’s games. He could too easily see some of that number including the Decker women, had things been different. At either rate, the thought of humans manipulated like this for such a cruel end was disgusting. And humanity called him the monster; they knew nothing of his Father. Nothing.

His brother sighed and reached into his blazer pocket. Lucifer almost laughed to see Mikey pull out a steno pad and a pen. “I need to take notes for records. Gabriel’s quite anal about those.”

Lucifer laughed. “Are you serious?”

“Records must be kept. When Father returns---”

“He’s not bloody coming back. Not a peep out of him since he had Amenadiel take your place forty years ago and make the last line of miracles. He’s fucked off to wherever he wants to be, and he’s _forgotten_ you lot. Sooner you realize that, the sooner you can move on.”

Michael shook his head. “And you always…Sam, why do you have to fight everything so hard? It clearly has netted you nothing.”

“It’s _Lucifer_.”

“No, it’s not, not ever to me.”

Lucifer shook his head. “Michael, Sword of God, you lost the right to consider anything about me or to call me ‘Sam’ when you kicked me from the Silver City. Samael is quite dead, and if he hadn’t been, about a decade ago, Dad thoroughly saw to that.” He couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his own spine, that tickled and ached until he stretched his wings fully on the balcony.

Michael regarded them and, try as his twin must have, even his own brother couldn’t help but eventually look away. “I had heard, but I had never _seen_.”

“Why ever not? I’ve heard I’m quite the funny bloody sitcom up there.”

Michael sighed. “Yes, some of the angels enjoy the spectacle. I cannot deny that.”

“Azrael said as much. Dear girl has as big a mouth as she ever did.”

“Yes, but while Remiel and Gabriel…while there are some who are quite curious about your life.”

“You mean love watching me be kicked while I’m so down I’m past the ninth ring of hell?”

“You said that, not I.”

“Well it’s true.”

His twin sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which seemed to be growing more unruly by the minute in the New Orleans humidity. “I knew, but I couldn’t bear it, Sam. Do not mistake following orders for actually wanting to do what I did.”

“You know, the humans have quite the story that ends with the war criminals begging for mercy and saying, ‘I was only following orders.’ Some of the souls I enjoy torturing most scream that in German before I peel flesh. So, pardon me, if that excuse doesn’t cut ice with me.”

“If you’d just listened, once…”

“And if the bulk of us and not a couple dozen had just said _no_.” He gripped the iron of the railing before him and tried to ignore the way it groaned of the metal as he clutched it tightly. “Yes, I’ve been punished exquisitely, but I _tried_. Now, all of you are suffering because Father doesn’t care. He never did, but as much you all are feathered arseholes, I still didn’t wish this on you. If you’d understood what I saw, that He wanted tools and not children…it could have been different.”

“It is not. Father _will_ come back, and until then the archangels who are left will keep everything running. Gabriel keeps the records and Raphael provides counsel.”

“That’s more than Father ever did. He was never a ruler to share his thought processes with anyone. So, what does that make you, Mikey?”

“I have to keep an eye on all the host. I make sure tasks are being fulfilled. There are many siblings---”

“Oh, I remember that much.”

“So, checking in with all of them takes time, and then I start over again. Honestly, you’re part of my check in on angels---”

“_Not_ me, not anymore,” Lucifer bit back. “I won’t answer to _Him_ if he ever bothers to come back, and I certainly don’t answer to my brothers.”

“I still have a checklist, and after this I go to California and then Brazil. You’re not the only Celestial---Fallen or otherwise---on earth. But you hadn’t been on my list before.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed over the eons.”

Michael sighed and continued to jot down notes. Oh, Lucifer had some things his twin could write down, and then, a place he could shove that notepad of his. “Azrael was very worried.”

“Like you’ve ever given a toss about her either. You were so bloody cruel to her when we were younger. You and Gabriel and Raphael, thick as thieves, and always picking on the young ones. Maybe Uriel wouldn’t have gone so sodding mad if you’d treated him better.”

He expected Michael to shout, to display a fraction of his power as God’s right hand. But he did not. Instead, he slouched even lower and sighed. “I have often thought that over the last decade or so, Brother. I could have been so different with the younger host, less haughty and demanding. I am trying now, and that’s a big part of why _I’m_ the one who checks in with them. I wanted to do it, much more than Raph or Gabe would have.”

“Gabe’s a bloody tyrant. He gets that from Father.”

“Sam, I just…”

He felt his eyes blaze and was gratified when his brother looked away. “I’m not Samael.”

“You always will be. Whatever has happened, whatever punishments Father has meted out from wherever He is---we’re twins.”

“Got a mirror? I think we can tell each other apart now,” Lucifer spat.

Michael’s hand was on his shoulder then. “Samael, you are my twin, you are half of what I am, and whatever has befallen you, it cannot take away that we’re the only two among the host---don’t argue you’re not one---who have the fire of creation barely contained within us. No one else will ever understand that or have seen what we have seen, _made_ what we fabricated together. I followed Father’s orders, but it still aggrieved me. If you’d just…”

“Given up?”

“You don’t have to be contrary every time just to be contrary, Brother.”

“And you didn’t have to lick boots or ask how high every time Father used to say ‘jump.’”

“Well, one of the Demiurge needed to be obedient and controlled.”

“Like a dog?” Lucifer added, rubbing at his arms. “This is an old fight and an endless one. I am sorry Father has left you all in the lurch because I bloody well knew he would. If you lot are too stubborn to ever move past him, then, well, Hell’s not the only place on its own, hopeless loop, is it?”

“He will return.”

“Well, humans have this other delightful saying, ‘shit in one hand and wish in the other and see which fills up first.’ Father has found a new universe and new toys to play with. It’s obvious.”

“You have to have faith, Sam.”

“And He lost mine so long ago that this planet didn’t even have multi-celled organisms yet.” Lucifer sighed. “Brother, _miracles_…that’s all I’m interested in. Tell me what you know.”

“You won’t like it.”

“Will it help me keep the current ones alive and safer?”

“Perhaps,” Michael admitted.

Lucifer swept his right arm out and across the expanse of the balcony. “Then, by all means, share with the rest of the class, Mikey.”

“After the great flood, Father was somewhat hopeful that with Mother banished, you might show more loyalty toward us.”

“You mean He grew disappointed that I wasn’t a loyal torturer and didn’t magically become an enthusiastic warden with a personal touch for Mum?”

“Yes, he had hoped you wouldn’t delegate that to Mazikeen.”

“That’s the ruthlessness I’d come to expect from Father. She’s Mum, and there was no way I was going to torture her too. I…it was enough to leave Maze to it, efficient as she is. Mum never broke, not in millennia. She was stronger than Dad gave her credit for.” Lucifer stood taller and a small rumble bubbled up in his chest. “She deserved the universe I and the flaming sword gave her. She’ll do a sight better than Dad ever did. She might be manipulative and confused, but she did love us. Dad never has.”

“Father does. He just wants us to be our best.”

Lucifer twisted the railing so hard it tore in his grip. Sod it. He needed massive repairs on his flat anyway. What was one more thing? “And is this mine? I eliminated the world’s first murderer; I saved the life of the woman I love. I protected her despite Cain’s continued threats. So, is this making me my best?”

“Father has a plan. It’s not for us to question it, Sam. It’s all you’ve ever done, but maybe once if you just _listened_.”

“Oh, he abuses me because I’ve earned it? If I just laid down and took it, he’d be merciful, is that it?” His heart thudded faster and, for once, he thought back to Dr. Linda. She’d agreed with him more than once about how twisted his family was, and it heartened him somehow that, at least by human standards, he was not at fault, not completely. “I’m so very tired, Brother, and the only thing keeping me from Hell is because it is _still_ worse there, and I hate torturing others. I loathe it, and it punishes me as much as it does the sinners to endure it. I won’t be that…I won’t go back to it, not now.” He laughed but it sounded broken and frighteningly scattered even to his own ears. “I’m a monster, no doubt, but even _that_ is beneath me. So, if that’s Dad’s plan, he can shove it up his arse.”

Michael sighed, and he loathed that too about his twin, that equanimity he always had. As if nothing touched him, at least until this current exhaustion of trying to make up for God’s absence. “May I finish? I never wished you ill---”  


“Debatable.”

“And I created the miracles, set their existence in motion almost every time at Father’s behest, but I have also mourned them every time they were slaughtered. It was not a fate they deserved. I believe that Father has a plan, I do, but…”

“Careful, Brother, that sounds like doubt.”

“I don’t doubt,” Michael snapped, but his voice was not as resolute as it had been. “But if what I can share helps these two miracles survive, then it’s important, and I’m here to try. For _all_ of your sakes.”

“How generous.”

Michael sighed but continued on, “Once Father realized that, no matter what he did directly, you would never listen and would never come back to His side, He realized he needed something else to try and persuade you, albeit indirectly. So, the miracles were created---one a generation and designed to appeal to you. They’d be ones in touch with the arts, and we both know it didn’t matter which type of art, Sam, as you’ve always been so easy for _all_ of them. Women and men who’d been designed to curry your attention and favor if all you ever did was run across them.”

“Not too much of a stretch. Clearly, the miracles I know intrigue me by their resistance to my abilities. This is not revelatory.”

“I’m not done, Sammy,” Michael said. “I…it was to be subtle. The miracles set on earth in the hopes that you would stumble across them and never really think too hard about _how_. They were designed to be impossible for you to resist both by their interests in life and by your inability to instantly bed them.”

“Fair point, but then you stopped?”

“I was busy dealing with Fenris for almost two centuries. When Father was still around, I was not his auditor. You know that. I was his Sword, so I was responsible for any warring pantheon threat that needed attention. Fenris was a most fearsome opponent. I suppose Father’s plans changed, and he made do with Amenadiel, who knew nothing about why he blessed Penelope Decker or that there had ever been other miracles. A double-blind scenario if you will. But it went deeper because Father realized he never gave you enough chance with your short vacations to _seem_ to randomly bump into the miracles, as was originally designed. So, He…”

Lucifer swore long and lividly. “My vacation to L.A. was allowed…all a big, sodding part of _His_ plan, and had nothing to do with the leverage I had over Amenadiel.”

His twin nodded and continued to note take. Bastard. “It did not. Amenadiel didn’t know. If he couldn’t know, well, you couldn’t eventually get the truth out of him.”

Lucifer had to chuckle at that. “Using the firstborn’s utter cluelessness to His advantage. That actually makes sense to manipulate Amenadiel that way; he questions less than even the rest of the host, and that’s saying a lot. So, everything with meeting the Detective and the spawn was a set up. Mum implied as much, and I was able to figure that out from there. It’s nothing I don’t know. So, are you going to say tell me now that the Detective’s feelings---that Beatrice’s kindness---are all more manipulations from on high?”

He tried to project bravado over that reality, that he’d always been right and the miracles in his life hadn’t had real feelings of their own. The Detective and Beatrice might not be aware their feelings were faked, but they had always been part of Father’s ineffable plan all along. That truth ached, and his wings drooped as doubt and despair wormed their way into his brain. Of course, Beatrice wasn’t actually a real friend. Yes, she thought she was, but her concern for him was all something Father had made her feel. It was no more real than how once, so very long ago that it felt most days like it had never happened at all, her mother had kissed him on a beach and promised so many things. That soemthing better had felt possible with the Detective.

Damn it. Neither of them could even help would Father had done to them.

Everyone was a pawn with Dad. Always had been, always would be.

“No, Sam,” Michael set his pad back in his jacket and swallowed hard. “The miracles are autonomous. In fact, considering they cannot be manipulated by _your_ ability over desires, they’re more autonomous than any other human you’ve ever met, at least where you’re concerned.”

“Then, I don’t quite understand. There’s a catch. There’s _always_ a catch with Father. How was any of this supposed to control me?”

“Didn’t it though?” Michael continued. “You changed, grew merciful, turned your outlook from punishing the guilty to winning justice for the wronged. You loved someone else so deeply as to die for them and _begged_ Dad for help, did work for him willing for the first time since you Fell, even if you found a loophole for dealing with Mom.”

“I…they’re a leash.”

“Yes, Brother. The miracles are fully in control of who and what they are around you, that was never the design. But _you_ aren’t. They were made to appeal to you, to everything within you, and to ensure you’d do _anything_ to protect them, no matter how illogical. Or how antithetical to your personality. You had known Chloe Decker barely three months before truly talking to Father for the first time since the Fall. You were willing to do _anything_ Father wanted for her life. When have you ever written anyone, let alone Dad, a blank check? You’re a better deal maker than that.”

Lucifer blinked, not sure he was processing what Michael had said. It couldn’t…they couldn’t…it couldn’t have just been a game. “Explain it again. I must have heard you wrong.”

“Father knew how to trigger you. He knew how to get you to pledge undying loyalty to any miracle you spent time with and, by extension, knew how to use that weakness so you would obey _Him_ willingly as long as it kept your miracles safe.”

“Father and you together made manacles out of humans, out of humans who had no idea what they were or why they could do what they did and suffered horrible deaths. That’s what you’re saying. Even from wherever the fuck He’s run off to, Father is still trying to do that with the Detective and Beatrice. And yet you trust His plans?”

“It’s always for the best, Bro---”

Lucifer had heard enough. Growling so loud that every human---drunk or not---on Bourbon Street stopped dead still on the street and stared at both of them, Lucifer rounded on his brother. That rage that always burned now just under his breastbone was finally aimed at someone not himself. He swept his left arm out, and Michael went flying through the air, through the gaping hole of the apartment’s former window, and crashed into what was left of Lucifer’s piano. Wood and ivory erupted everywhere.

He stalked across the floor to his twin and was about to swipe at him but stilled when Michael refused to jump up or assume a defensive stance.

  
Michael shook his head and sighed. “Sam, don’t. For once, listen or think things through. You never do, and I’m not here as your enemy. I’m here as your twin. I’m here to help because, yes, I can see what a mess I’ve helped make for millennia. How cruel it was to the miracles who perished. And I don’t wish ill on the ones you know now. I do not.”

“Convenient change of heart,” Lucifer rasped. “Get up.”

“No,” Michael said, his voice strong and so commanding that even Lucifer was tempted to fall for his authority and stop. His twin continued, “because I do not wish to fight. I only wanted to check in on you, and to tell you what I could to protect them. And this is what I know. You can’t help but want to protect them. It is how Father has maneuvered---”

Lucifer relaxed his posture and dropped his hands. Yet he made no move to help up his twin. “_Manipulated_. You mean that he manipulated me. That everything I thought I’ve felt was all calibrated and designed to happen. That _I_ had no choice in it.”

Michael got to his feet and dusted the splinters from his rumpled suit. His glasses were lost somewhere in the mess, and Lucifer had fuck all idea where they’d landed. Nor did he care. “I understand that it was wrong now, and I’m telling you all I know so you can help them. It doesn’t matter why you feel compelled as you do---”

“Oh, it bloody well does,” he roared.

“No, it doesn’t because Chloe Decker and Beatrice Espinoza are completely guileless in this, and at least in New Orleans, the girl will need you badly.”  


“And I do this, protect them or at least the urchin, and one day Dad can twist that knife, should he bother to come back? Keep that muzzle tight till Father has use of me, is it?”

“Honestly, I do not know. It has been quiet for forty years and most days I assume Dad will come, but I don’t…we deal with the here and now, and for _now_, that girl downstairs needs protecting because miracles don’t last long.”

“Because Father made them like beacons for all the nasties out there. How thoughtful.” How like him to set up that dynamic because, yes, Lucifer was susceptible to it. John-O hadn’t been wrong about him having a tendency to play the White Knight (what a laugh) and to tilt at windmills.

“Sam, I can keep trying to see what I can gather up. The records of the others are old, but maybe I can go through the archives and find out what they could do. It might give you clues about the girl. I just…”

“Don’t say it.”

“What?”

“Don’t bloody say you’re sorry. You spent years—millennia---because Dad said do it, making this mess, and all to manipulate me. To give me _less_ choice at the end of the day than any of the rest of our siblings. Fuck free will. You made me leashes over and over again on a loop, and now you’re sorry?”

“It was wrong. I…without doing it on a loop, time away from it, and seeing now what actually meeting the miracles has done to you…it was _wrong_. I see that now, truly I do. Do you understand? Dad was wrong for once, and I’m still here and I want to help.”

“But you…” He stopped himself before he rejected his twin’s overtures.

Lucifer wasn’t outclassed with strength, but the numbers and sheer volume of beings who would come looking for Beatrice would be too much for him and the Lilim. Fucking John-O wasn’t wrong about that or about his disadvantages. Witches and other magic users were technically human. Killing Cain had ruined him, but Father’s rules and punishments still held. If there was one thing he’d never do again, no matter how dire the circumstances, Lucifer would never take a human life. He couldn’t afford it.

What would fucking be left of him?

But Michael wanted to help, to try and make amends, at least for the Detective and Beatrice’s sakes. Lucifer was angry and confused and incredibly hurt, but he was also just shrewd and clear-headed enough to know he needed every ally he could get.

“Then, thank you, Michael.” He held out his hand and tried to ignore the pause before his twin took it. Lucifer shook his brother’s perfectly unblemished hand and sighed. “We’re not square. I doubt we ever will be.”

“I can try,” Michael replied, and then clenched his jaw tightly.

Defiance, oh if only his brother had ever shown that before, what a force they’d have been.

“But whatever you can find and however you can help is appreciated,” Lucifer dropped his hand. “How long before Beatrice finds whatever it is she does? And will the Detective ever?”

“There’s a window. I don’t know why. Maybe Dad didn’t think much of you or your wandering eye, so he kept them young; I have zero idea. But between eighteen and thirty-three. Chloe Decker is immune to you, but she will never develop any abilities. She will muddle through life and attract no attention as she is.”

“So, I could convince Beatrice to not bother looking any longer.”

Michael had the audacity to smirk. “I’ve had glimpses of that one. Do you think you can tell her to do anything and have her listen?”

“Not so far I haven’t,” Lucifer grumbled. “I…is this what you truly want, Brother?”

“Of course, I do. I have to try and make up for my past sins, of course. I have wronged you and them. I must atone.”  


“No, but interesting to hear those words from your mouth. Would that I’d had a recorder on. It would be worth repeating. On a loop,” he said, popping the ‘p’ again. “Middle management.”

“Huh?”

He gestured to his brother and his off-the-rack suit. The horror. “You run Heaven’s audits because Dad abdicated as surely as I did. You can create anything…”  


“I create matter. I can’t shape it.”

“Creativity is creativity, Mikey,” Lucifer said, groaning a bit at the remains of his much-battered Steinway. “That drive never leaves, and a glorified pencil pusher whilst you wait for The Great Pumpkin to come back doesn’t make you happy.”

“It’s about duty.”

“Sometimes, even a little, it can be about _desire_,” Lucifer countered. Then, the stress of the day became too much, and he felt the ache deep down in his bones. Sighing, he lumbered to his couch and settled down, trying to avoid poking his damn spines through the leather. A possible feat, but he always had to be careful. Like a world made of sodding crystal around him. “We have so much bad blood between us, and that cannot be fixed, but for your own sake, don’t waste a chunk of eternity waiting for Him and doing something that you hate. I can see how tired you hard, how drained. Let one of the other host have this duty. It’s not even your task.”

Michael’s jaw ticked again, and he looked away before he spoke. “I serve Father.”

“Yes, we can see that, but you must have some inkling that it’s not always the right thing or you wouldn’t be here.”

“The miracles were a mistake, but someone needs to keep an eye on the host, especially the few with tasks on earth or---”

“The exiles like me? I’ve heard a few interesting rumors about Gaudium, wasn’t sure they were true.”

“Most are,” Michael replied. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“Perhaps, but sometimes you have to take time for yourself as well.”

“When Father’s back, I’ll rest.”

“Well, that will be quite the impressive homecoming then. About the first of Never, right?”

“Sam---”

They were interrupted by Maze, Taka---both with blades drawn---and Beatrice storming up the stairs.

It was, naturally, the urchin who spoke first. “Holy crap! What happened up here?” She glared up at Michael, and Lucifer noticed her flinch, saw the moment her gaze lingered too long on his twin’s face, especially over the eyes. That ached. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt him!”

Michael held up his hands to still the urchin---who had no bloody idea even after being told what being part of the demiurge even meant---as she advanced on him. A flea would have better luck detaining a rampaging gorilla than she did doing anything to slow down his brother, even if Michael hadn’t come spoiling for a fight.

The archangel spoke, “Miss Espinoza, I’m afraid you have the order of events confused. Sam…_Lucifer_ became upset and tossed _me_ through his piano. We’ve talked it out, and we’re better now.”

Taka set her sword down and gave a low, appreciative whistle. “Good on you, boss.”

Maze chuckled and glared at Michael. “Well, can’t say you hadn’t earned it. Some Sword of God, you are.”

Lucifer shook his head. “A misunderstanding. Michael and I have come to a truce, at least as long as Beatrice needs help. He’ll continue to research the miracles, and if we need assistance, he’s offered it. That’s good enough for me. Alas, that understanding may have come too late for my piano.” Or what was left of it.

Beatrice was still glowering at his twin, and it was both flattering she’d do that for him and also deeply stupid. “First, hey, you’re not British, which weird cause you sound kind of New York, and never mind. Second, are you telling the truth?”

“You have my oath as an archangel that I mean you no harm and nor do I mean any harm to my twin.”

“Beatrice, you can relax now,” Lucifer said. “Have you ever known me to lie?”

She nodded. “I…alright, but it was a pretty loud crash. It was scary.”

Lucifer carefully rubbed the back of his scalp. “I was a bit angry. I admit that.”

Michael smiled, and it was genuine, a look that Lucifer hadn’t seen since they’d dared each other to create the weirdest animal they could think of while on earth. He’d come up with the idea for the harpy eagle, a bit of a Celestial in-joke. Michael had come up with the raw material and coached Lucifer in how to shape the platypus. To be fair, it was the weirdest thing Lucifer had ever seen. Even now.

He’d missed his twin, but too much had passed between them. So, a truce for now, for Beatrice’s sake. Nothing more.

“Yes,” Michael added. “Uh, Lucifer can be quite short tempered.” He winked at Beatrice. “That seems to be going around here, miracle.” He shrugged and unfurled his wings, and his smile grew as Beatrice regarded them with wonder but didn’t turn into the kind of sycophantic, quivering mass Carmen had become upon spying Lucifer’s long ago. “Well, I see the divine doesn’t affect you any more than the infernal.” He nodded toward Lucifer. “Brother, I’ll stop back when I have anything further.”

Lucifer smirked despite himself. “Mikey, do be in touch.”

With a great flap of motion, Michael was gone, slipping easily through planes of existence and back to the Silver City.

Beatrice’s eyes were huge. “How does he even hide those? Where do they go? Were yours that big…wait your current wings are that big but they don’t go in and holy shit!”

Maze frowned and touched Beatrice’s shoulder. “You want to breathe, there, kiddo?”

“I just…wow,” she sighed and turned around, eying the mess around her. “I think the couch is all we have left. Lucifer, one of the splinters totally impaled the tv.”

He groaned and leaned back on the sofa. “Well, I had been meaning to freshen the place up after everything with the bar shattering, and Mazikeen, will you remember to call the contractors in the morning, and I’ll get to ordering the new tv?”

Maze nodded. “Sure, I don’t mind before I set out on a bounty being your secretary.”

Lucifer shrugged. “Very well then. Taka, can you do it?”

“Thanks, boss. I love being considered first. I was going to go sell my wares in the square early, but considering your wrath just trashed a grand piano and bruised an archangel…whatever you want, I’ll get right on it.” She bowed a little to emphasize her point.

At least some demons knew their place. Then again, her independence was why he liked Maze so much. Double edged sword, that.

“That’s the spirit,” he chirped back to Taka.

The two demons started toward the stairs. Maze looked at Beatrice who had invited herself to sit next to him on the sofa. “Hey, not-so-little-human, we need to go.”

“I just…” she frowned up at him, and he knew she wanted to stay. But he was too tired to be checked on, and the revelations from his twin too heavy to deal with in her presence, _especially in her presence_. “Do you want me to hang out?”

“There’s very little to hang out in now, urchin. It’s late, and you’ve a class in the morning. Get rest and everything will be okay. Honestly, Michael was perfectly amicable. I loathed some of the discussion, you know how it goes ‘Father is always right.’ Yeah, Dad’s bloody right all the time, my arse. But I’ve done the damage myself. Made my bed, and I’m lying in it, right?”

“Still…” she hesitated.

“Hey, kid, let’s get some rest. The King of Hell will still be in one piece in the morning, won’t you, Lucifer?” Maze said. She set one hand on Beatrice’s shoulder and urged her off the sofa. “See you in the morning, right, Lucifer?”

He barked out a laugh and waves his hand across the expanse of his broken flat. “Where else would I go?”

Maze tugged a bit on Beatrice’s arm to get her to the stairs, and even then, the girl shot him an appraising look that would have made either of her detective parents proud.

Maze added, “I’ll check in with my itinerary before I head to Birmingham to hunt. Taka’s on Trixie-duty but later unless you trust our brothers that far, you’re up.”

He nodded. “Very well. Good night, ladies.”

They finally tromped back down the stairs, even if Beatrice’s wide, brown eyes kept cutting back to him as often as they could. It was so very unfair that she could see through him like that, and he wasn’t sure if that was because, after a fashion, she’d known him so long or because she was a miracle. Or both.

All he was certain of was that he loathed her perceptiveness.

Once the women were gone, Lucifer forced himself up and to his lair. The couch was expansive but not comfortable enough to sleep on, and he was exhausted, wiped from the week of visits and grim revelations. And angry. He was always angry, but for the first time in years the brunt of his wrath was back on his Father and not completely on himself.

How dare He manipulate him, take his free will, and make a _mockery of it_.

But try as he might, Lucifer could not make his worries about Beatrice die out or, even now, the regret and care for the Detective extinguish. Because in very different ways, he loved both fiercely, and would still die to protect either of them, even though he knew it was a trick his Father had played on him. It was all a masterful effort to have the Devil at His mercy. And damn all of it because the miracles were innocent, and he was the one who’d been manipulated, whose feelings weren’t truly his own.

Yet even knowing, he _felt_ as he always had.

Lucifer didn’t know how to reconcile the reality of _why_ he cared about either Decker, each after their own fashion, with unfailingly _doing so_. Because he resented it too, resented the Detective and Beatrice both just a little; his frustration mirrored a fraction of the feelings he’d had against his returned wings. Because a leash was a leash, no matter what. No matter if one of his current tethers had been the love of his interminable life and the other was one of the only things that now made his prison sentence bearable.

They were still just traps set by his Father; traps that had already ensnared him. As he struggled for sleep, Lucifer couldn’t help but hate them both just a bit for that. And then loathe himself even more for feeling that way despite bloody well knowing neither the Detective nor the spawn could help what they’d been created to do. They didn’t even _know_, and he’d never tell Beatrice the truth, not ever, because he understood it would gut her.

How could it not?

So, he tossed and turned and tried to force his anger away. To _fix_ anything. But damn if he could help any of this terrible mess either. The only One who could had fucked off to probably another universe, and, like always, seemed content to let Lucifer clean up for His chaos. Right, and humans called Luci the “Prince of Lies.”

If only they knew…


End file.
